Chapter 20
Nico
Seeing the priest up close, while also finding Alice on the verge of collapse was a shock I’m still not over. If I was carrying a gun, I’d have been pointing it at the guy’s chest. Possibly even pulling the trigger.
The guy’s face is printed on the top of my mind. His soft, pale eyes, the folds of skin around his thin-lipped mouth, the way his lips moved when he smiled his smiles that seemed as fake as strawberry-flavored candy, which never tastes like real strawberries, no matter how hard they try.
I’ve just been driving around, giving Alice the time to calm down and giving myself the same.
Night has fallen and there’s so few houses in the area where we are, that the darkness is black.
The few lights I can see in the distance are inviting, like little havens we can aim for to find safety.
But there won’t be any of that. Not for Alice. Not until we get rid of the priest.
“I think we’re gonna have to start taking notes on all the lies we’ve been telling,” I say and squeeze her hand again. “We’ll probably have to hire an estate agent, if nothing else to make our story more believable.”
She smiles at me weakly. “I don’t think we need to have much contact with anyone in town from here on out. I think the cameras and mics will give us plenty. Soon, I hope.”
“Sorry for saying we’ll be there for Mass on Sunday,” I say. “I know that wasn’t part of the plan.”
She laughs in a short burst—way too short. “Not much is going according to plan so far.”
She can say that again. If I had my way, we’d still be in that hotel suite in San Diego right now.
“But that’s how it always is with plans,” she says. “No matter how well-laid they are.”
“Like us storming that warehouse a couple of months ago,” I say before I think better of it. Reminding her of the time she almost bled out in my arms is probably not the best way to cheer her up.
But she squeezes my hand again and smiles. “Like that day, yes. But you were there to save me then just like you were there to save me tonight.”
Her voice is soft, dreamlike. Saying things I wish I could take as an invitation to show her more of how I really feel about her. Probably isn’t. But it’s as close as.
We’ve reached a small town that I didn’t read the name of as we entered.
I pull into the parking lot of a bar and grill type restaurant, parking between two pickups.
Still holding her hand and before turning off the engine, I lean over and kiss her.
Her lips tighten under mine, probably just the initial shock, because she returns my kiss right after, squeezing my hand so tight it hurts.
But nothing can hurt when she’s kissing me back. Not really.
It doesn’t last though, she pulls away much too fast.
“Let’s go in,” she says, pulling away from me and opening her door.
I don’t let go of her hand as she tries to let go of mine. Our eyes meet then. Her’s shocked, a little scared, a little sorrowful. Mine hopefully holding all the questions I can’t ask her. Mostly the whys. As in, “Why are you always running from me when kissing you is so good?” and similar.
She shrugs, something like an apology entering her eyes. And I realize that’s the best I’m gonna get. And also, that it won’t ever be enough.
I let her go, hoping that old wisdom, the one that says if you love something, you gotta let it go and it will come back to you, holds truth.